Inside and Out

Wesley is nine months old.

He has been on the outside as long as he was on the inside. It's strange to think about. So much has happened in those two sets of nine months and it's interesting to realize they were both the same length, and that after a year and a half, life is in such a very different place.

These have been the first counted weeks and months of my life, where each week seemed so important I counted it individually...4 weeks pregnant...12 weeks...tell people...40 weeks...hope he comes in time for birth at the birth center...will he come on his grandmas' birthday?...indeed, 40 weeks 6 days, hello little one.

Then after his birth, we counted weeks until so many months went by it stopped making sense. We are still counting months and seeing rapid changes from week to week.

Clicking time off in this manner, and being so focused on the nuances of Wesley's development has had a strange effect on time. It seems like worlds ago that I was pregnant. Even further back, I found out I was pregnant, yet it was not so long ago. I can remember so clearly what it felt like to live in Fairfield, but at the same time it feels like a faraway land.  I remember being suprised by how long pregnancy felt. We packed a lot of change into those nine months. The past nine months has gone by somewhat more quickly, though things are quite different now than from when Wesley was born.

During my final month of pregnancy, I transitioned into feeling ready for the baby, excited to have the experience of birthing and to share it with Casey. Similarly, as this nine month period comes to a close, my mind has recently shifted and I feel at home. I feel comfortable with our little family. I feel ready and excited for the transitions and transformations to come. 

Playoffs 2010, Season Start 2011

In the past nine months we have gelled as a family. I am finally in synch not only with being a mom, but with being a fellow parent. The second part was in some ways harder for me. I knew we were both doing well as parents, and we worked well as a team, but I felt strange. It was foreign to be so connected to someone else when I was used to being so closely in synch with only Casey. It was shocking how little time there was for Casey and me to have focused attention on one another, it felt odd. But recently, my feeling of strangeness just disappeared. I feel a synergy among us which gives me a feeling of vitality. I am part of both a dynamic duo and a dynamic trio. Maybe that's what it means to be a family.

When we first found out I was pregnant I was an MBA student in a small Iowa town. We held our special secret privately for three months and then shared it with family and friends at Christmas time. We ventured across America and lived at Casey's Mom & Step Dad's house for nearly five months while we lined up a new setup for our little family. By the end of the nine months we were living in Petaluma, I was 40ish pounds heavier than at the start, and I was excited to give birth and meet our baby.

The past nine months has been a continual process of rapid growth and change for Wesley and for us. So many roles and perspectives shifted. My body shrunk back. My mind cocooned with an infant and then opened back up again with new inspiration.

It baffles me how much Wesley has accomplished in his nine months in the womb and nine months out. In the first nine he went from tiny cells to a functional human. In the past nine he's gone from a sleepy fragile newborn to a vibrant baby who pushes furniture across our room, who decimates chard in the garden, and who loves to play.

I can see that having a child has altered my perception of time. Though at some point I will start counting in years and not months, these past eighteen months have shown me how time passes quickly when you have children. Perhaps it is because they, in their rapid development, are clear demonstrations of the ever-changing, transient nature of life. Perhaps it is because as a parent I have begun to reach the age of the adults from my childhood, that my parents are now grandparents, and that the generations shift more quickly than one imagines as a child.

Nine months in, nine months out. The mirror of these two spans of time amazes me...My mind keeps reflecting back and forth over my pregnancy and over the time since Wesley's birth...precious spans of time.

First Garden Days

Wesley and I went to the work day at our local community garden in hopes of getting a garden plot. We are on the waitlist, but I think Wesley won them over, so they are going to let us have some space. The garden is very beautiful and well-tended with many raised beds. It is three blocks from our house and borders on the Dog Park which is ideal for Wesley's current fascination with canines.

Wesley loves the garden. I set him down in the children's tepee area and he went at it. He dug a hole in the dirt, spent a lot of time time picking up and throwing down straw, investigated the tepee itself, and tried to eat the leaves off some young pea plants. He was one happy kid. There are so many exciting things to explore outside on the ground, and Wesley is ecstatic when we bring him to the garden or the park.

I love the idea of Wesley eating fresh, organic vegetables out of the garden. I like that from a young age he will be connected to growing food, playing in the dirt, and tasting the freshness of the season. I look forward to having the freshest produce possible.

He may be too young this summer to entirely understand the concept of gardening, but he already enjoys being outside, exploring the interesting landscape, and watching us weed. He thought pulling weeds and shaking the dirt off the roots was hilarious.

I have never been much of a gardener, but I love the community garden and it felt great to be out there with Casey and Wesley. I am already salivating for homegrown heirloom tomatoes and massive amounts of basil. Yum!

Morning Happenings

Ready for a Walk

Like Fetus Like Baby

After Wesley's birth, we were talking with the midwife when she asked if the baby had been an active or calm fetus. I replied that he had been extremely active and responsive in the womb. She smiled a knowing smile and said something to the effect of "expect a struggle at first, but once he gains control of his body and movements, you'll have an easier time while other parents begin pulling out their hair".

I smiled, not knowing whether to believe this woman or put the info in the same category of those who knew what gender the baby would be prior to birth. She had cared for many babies in the womb and then come to know them afterward, so perhaps she had some special knowledge. Certainly fetuses behave differently from one another, but how could she know what he'd be like on the outside?

The idea of him mastering locomotion beyond rooting for milk pointed to a distant future far away from the tiny creature in my arms. A future I couldn't yet imagine.

But we have arrived. It seems she may have been right. Wesley was not the easiest newborn. He wasn't the Buddha Baby snuggle in your arms fall asleep at the drop of a hat kinda guy. He needed a lot of assistance as he strained, trying to master his body and falling short. He wanted to stand not sit, to move not stay, and to touch not see the world, and he wanted it all so badly. He was often frustrated with his limitations.

Emptying the tea drawer

Now, much of the tension has dissipated. He scampers across the room, he adventures, and he is on the go. It feels like a pressure valve was released. He seems more joyful and happy. Even as he pushes the boundaries of his current capabilities by letting go when standing, pushing toys back and forth, climbing on top of objects and pulling onto other objects, he is more at ease.

I love this new phase. I love watching how happy he is to play independently and occasionally glance over at me with a smile of accomplishment, or to flash a mischievous look as he dashes away to the shoe rack, hoping I will catch him so we can do it all over again. And with his new capabilities he has also become more snugly. He spends more time out of our arms, but comes over and takes quick snuggles more frequently. He has taken to putting his cheek next to our cheeks, so very sweet.

This is a very fun stage. Wesley enthusiastically loves the work that he does all day long--climbing, and pulling things, and crawling with his tiny ball in his hand which he raps on various furniture items, knocking down block towers, and ripping magazines, emptying drawers and surfaces of their contents, playing chase and be chased, playing catch, babbling and dog watching.

Of course there are some new frustrations that come with Wesley's increased mobility. He is more frequently redirected from things he can't have and this leads to upset. Wes has started breaking down in loud screams when the dogs on the street begin to walk away from him. And diaper changes, well, they're reeeeaaaally hard for everyone.

But he is generally a happy adventurer, providing plenty of entertainment to his onlookers. I am so pleased to see him enjoying himself so much. Parenting has entered a new level of fun.

Watching the landscaper

The midwife was right. I am happy that Wesley reached certain physical milestones early, because it has brought him comfort. His struggle and will to persevere and overcome the limitations of his body has paid off.

Flashbacks Pull Forward

There are moments when I am mothering Wesley that I have vivid flashbacks to my own childhood. As he gets older, they seem to be coming more frequently. They are not average memories, but visceral ones where sensation is vivid, as if being relived.

I pour cupfulls of water over his back in the bath. I can remember anticipating the warm water rolling over my shoulders, how it felt flooding over my back. I remember thinking that my parents were so good at keeping it out of my eyes as I leaned my head back to have my hair rinsed. Warm, soothing relaxation.



I stroke tiny wisps of hair around his ears. I am transported to Illinois, my Mom sitting on the side of my bed, stroking my hair to help me sleep. I feel how softly she brushes it, sometimes back, sometimes behind my ear, it feels like the touch of silk lulling me. I can remember the confusion of awakening after drifting off to sleep, shocked that my Mom is no longer at my side. Is this why Wesley screams when he awakens?

I carry him from the stroller after a jog. I have the vague awareness of my Dad lifting me from the car, sometimes a notion of going up stairs, and the feeling of knowing I was being taken care of.

Will Wesley remember these things? The tiny moments we parents may forget even happened get imprinted in the child's mind. Wesley notices the awnings flapping in the wind, the dog who is nearly out of sight, the string of loose carpet in the corner. He will likely remember parts of our daily routines, but he will also remember the little happenings, unexpected moments.

Did my parents love these moments? Did they feel as if they were showering me with adoration and security as they did it, or was the caring act enough in itself? They probably couldn't imagine the comfort I feel even now as I remember the events.

Being a parent sparks memories of our own childhoods, encourages us to revisit them. More than a simple act of remembering, I am connecting to a physical memory of childhood in a way I had rarely experienced before parenthood. It is as if the moments are imprinted in my body and are accessed through my mothering Wesley. 

These vivid memories connect Wesley to my childhood, to my parents who were nurtured when they were young, and to family members preceding them. Generations who have parented, who have kept their babies warm, who have carried their sleeping ones, who have played the same games and sung the same songs. Generations who in these acts, have imparted knowledge about how to be cared for, and thus, how to become a caretaker.

Is this how I know how to parent? Maybe the knowledge is stored in my body, in my memories, to access when I need it. I pour the cup of water over my baby's shoulder's to keep him warm just as my parents for me and their parents for them. Each act may not flash me back to childhood, but much of what I do may have its origins there.

Perhaps the acts of my parents, along with my own 28 years of growth and individuation, and a bit of biological instinct are what constitutes my motherly intuition. This idea draws me backwards in time. I feel a deepening connection to the generations of mothers who came before me.

Thank you Mom and Dad for the endless hours of love and support you have given me and which you continue to provide. Thank you for the influence you had in the formation of my motherly intuition which I trust so fully, which guides me daily. I love you.

Thank you Grandma for the love and support you showed my Mom as a child and which continue you show us all. My mom's amazing mothering skills and your incredible nurturing abilities are much of the reason I have such confidence in my mothering.

Thank you to Casey's parents for your part in the ease with which Casey fathers so well.

I do not mean to imply I never struggle as a mother, never question what to do or if I am doing the best I can, but rather, I wish to express that there is a quality of knowing how to mother for which I am grateful.

Month 8

Month 8 flew by.

Except for the rough end with the scary sickness, Month 8 was a fun month. I was continually amazed at Wesley's quick increase in mobility and play/engagement.

The Fifteenth snuck up on me for the first time since Wesley's birth.

Wes has become proficient in crawling (fast) and pulling up (everywhere) and cruising. I love watching him hard at work as he pulls up on his little car, plays with the toys on it, and pulls and pushes it around. He's started pushing it as a walker, though he only pushes it a few steps forward at a time.

He loooves food. He likes to eat it and help with the spoon.

He understands no but often doesn't listen and increases speed in the banned direction, which is a new ability.

He has developed notable passion for the freedom brought by his new mobility. Sometimes he gets an idea on one side of the room, crawls across the room, out the room and in to the second bedroom to play with something he remembered. A new phase of exploration. It tickles me to see him adventuring into his independence in this fashion.

He has faces which he knows are funny, so he likes to make them. He crinkles his nose and inhales and exhales loudly through his nose when he's excited or thinks something is funny. When someone laughs he continues to ham it up. He has a tough little guy look sometimes.

He's getting even more vocal. Toward the end of the month he's started this sweet and heartbreaking little "da-da-da-da-ya-da-da-ga" thing when he's upset.

Our great friend and Wesley's Godfather, Steve, came and visited us from Fairfield, Iowa. It was amazing to have him here. Wesley of course loved him, and it did me good to see Steve again. I get fueled up and inspired when I talk with Steve, and seeing him was even better.

First Sickness

Wesley got sick.
We don't know how, but he did.
Was it the playdates?
Was it one of the many sick, coughing people we try to avoid on the street or in the stores?
Can I put him in a bubble to keep him safe?

After a day of discomfort, Wes woke last Friday night with a high fever. We gave him Tylenol and had a fitful night sleep. The next day, Wesley woke up sick. Casey went to work and Grandma D came over to help. I can't express the massive relief I felt when she said she'd come right away. It was so good have her there to help advise, reassure, and navigate the rough day that it was. It was a scary prospect to have to make decisions having never seen a baby illness before. Knowing that she had cared for babies with fevers was comforting.

We went to the doctor's office in the morning. Wes was feeling better due to Tylenol. They said he'd be fine. He was alert and less fussy than he had been earlier that morning. They said his rash was eczema. We kept checking in with the nurse throughout the day. She was concerned at his worsening condition. His fever went up again. We gave baths. Tylenol sort of worked, then seemed to not be working. We got a new thermometer, didn't know how to operate it and freaked when it said 104 degrees. We wondered if we needed to go to the ER. They said wait. We took another bath.

Casey came home. Wesley was relieved to be with him. We went on a walk and Wes got the only 20 minutes of sleep he'd had that day. Tired, sick baby. Maybe getting better? Grandma D went home.

Short nap, awakens with 103.7 temperature. Nurse tells us to go to the ER at 6pm on a Saturday night.

We go. Best ER visit ever. Very few people in the waiting room. Nicest staff imaginable. "treatment begins in 30 minutes or less" guarantee at our Hospital. And it was true. The doctor was informative, helpful, and reassuring. Wesley's temp had gone down by the time we arrived. The doctor said that because of some telltale signs (which he innumerated) he was pretty confident it was a virus which would run its course. We felt better, though still worried. Still a sick baby, but he fell asleep on the way home.


Fortunately, it was Casey's weekend. A couple days pass with an uncomfortable, restless baby. Poor, suffering baby. One rash fades and another appears. More stress about if it's the same sickness going away, if it is some other irritant, or some new thing, but Wes seems to be improving. He sleeps a lot, starts to feel better, and I rest with him. I was deeply exhausted.



Then, on St. Patrick's Day, our happy, healthy, playful, get-into-every corner of the house catch-me-if-you-can baby reemerged. My chest lifted in relief, in appreciation, in painfully exuberant joy that he is feeling better.


For a while I was in post-shock recovery. It was so intense being there, with Wesley, my baby who would scream the second I wasn't holding him and who would thrash restlessly in my arms. But the screams didn't bother me, I wished only to alleviate the pain. I'd be in the moment with him, then my mind would flicker to fears of what if the fever didn't go down, of the possible paths of the illness, of what the Tylenol was doing to his liver, of his poor little cells which were so hot, of if I should have kept him home instead of going to the grocery, if he's too little to play with others, though he adores it. But, it was easy to mostly stay present with him, to give the comfort and nurturing he so clearly needed.

Parenting is caring for another person's life--for their health and safety. A sick child throws that duty into new relief. The variables we cannot control, and those we can. The delicate nature of their bodies, and its robust ability to heal. The limits of their coping mechanisms and the power of just being present with them in discomfort. My limitations of not being able to help him, not just in little daily acts of reassurance, but in potentially life-threatening situations.

I don't consider myself an overprotective mom (though, the daughter of an infectious disease specialist, I aaaam borderline paranoid about germs), but during that fever we couldn't lower I felt very scared, very powerless. I understand the seductive quality of wanting to put your baby in a bubble. I retreat to that fantasy sometimes, but it quickly dissipates as unrealistic and undesirable.


Last Saturday was one of the most intense days in my life, even though throughout most of it, I was pretty sure he was going to be okay...

Now I watch him run around, so healthy and strong, and I feel so blissful...